


Dance Until Dawn

by Shatteredsand



Series: Dance'verse [1]
Category: Skins (US)
Genre: Angst, Confused sexuality, F/M, Fist Fights, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, Recreational Drug Use, Tea reserves the right to not be sure, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Wall Sex, angsty fluff, assholes in love, emotional breakdown, the kids are not alright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:18:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatteredsand/pseuds/Shatteredsand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I like me; I don't do we."<br/>"I matched you. I matched you good."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Change

One second, they're dancing, lose and easy. _Free_. The way they won't let themselves be anywhere else. He's smiling a real smile without a trace of his signature smirk. She's laughing real, honest laughter like she hasn't in the longest time. He's twisting around her, too close-too close-too close, but he's not touching her because they're best friends and they don't do that. She's swaying in his space, pushing-pushing-pushing without laying a hand on him. Because they're _just_ friends. He has Michelle. She has the girl of the week. Neither of them has the other. Not like that.

One second, they're dancing, lose and easy and free. The next, she's managed to get him up against a wall, and they're kissing. It's a soft, hesitant thing. Barely a kiss at all. But it _is_. And, oh god, what are they _doing_? She's looking at him with a sort of panic that he knows the girl she tries to be would never show. He's staring back with a sort of confusion that seems far too innocent for the man she knows him to be.

Then she's backing away, but she doesn't go far. Waits for him, for this, whatever _this_ is. And he's following, uncharacteristically somber. His hands on her skin and his tongue in her mouth and everything is burning as he pulls up her dress. Her hands slide under his shirt, trace over smooth, hard muscle, so different from what she's used to. He slips a hand into her underwear, pulls it down and out of the way. Out of _his_ way. Because, dear gods above, he's about to have sex with _Tea_.

He runs a hand over her, makes sure she's ready. He's almost surprised that she is, even as he rolls a condom on. He pauses, asks that damned question he hasn't bothered with in longer than he cares to remember.

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't want to fuck this up.

"Don't you dare stop _now_."

He doesn't stop. He thrusts in, and yeah, it hurts like a _bitch_. It never occurred to her that it would. But he's gentle. As gentle as he's capable of, which is far softer than she had thought. He'd always been so wild, so rough, so untamed. She hadn't thought him gentle. For anything or anyone.

She feels amazing, soft and wet and tight. He struggles to control himself. He wants to pound into her with the kind of desperate wanting he hasn't felt since...that he's _never_ felt. But he makes himself be slow and sweet instead of hard and fast. She's digging her nails into his back. He's not sure whether it's from pleasure or pain. He hopes it's the former, and not just for his ego's sake. He doesn't want to hurt her. He _cares_.

At some point it stopped being vaguely painful and started being really good. Different. So very different from the others before. And either she's not quite as gay as she thought she was, or he's just _that_ good. Her nails are digging into his back and she's not sure she cares which one it is. Because she doesn't want him to stop.

He keeps kissing her. He doesn't do that. Kisses are intimate, and sex is just sex. But he's doing it now, with Tea. He doesn't want to think about what that means. He doesn't want to think at all.

She keeps kissing him. He doesn't taste like a meaningless fuck, like lust and coke and ecstasy. He tastes like cigarette smoke and vodka and the slightest remnants of mint, and it burns in the best way. She doesn't know what it means but it doesn't matter because they're Tony and Tea and they're just _them_.

She cries out, and Tony's done this enough to know the sound of a woman hitting orgasm when he hears it. He rides her through it before letting go and following her off the edge.

He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Like a moan and sob are both trying to crawl from his lips at the same time. And then, he's still. He pulls out, removes the condom, neatly ties it off in a clinical and well practiced move, and throws it into the trash can hiding in the corner.

She pulls up her panties, not ashamed or embarrassed, just a little unsure as to what exactly they're supposed to do now. Because they're them, and they don't do this. Silence reigns for about two minutes, uncomfortable and uncertain and unwanted, until Tony can't take it anymore.

"So, muff-muncher, how's it feel to crunch cock?" His smirk makes its reappearance, but it's not as hard around the edges as it usually is and there's mirth in his eyes. He just wants to make her laugh. So they can stop this quiet awkwardness between them and just be Tony and Tea again.

"Reminded me why I'm into girls." She rolls her eyes but puts a hand on his wrist so he knows she doesn't really mean it, lest she bruise his ego.

"Glad I could help."

And they're playing with fire now, inching closer but still hoping to escape the burn. Because this doesn't sound like them, callous and pointed. It sounds light and flirty and this is not what they do.

"Good. Now walk me home, you tit."

"Did you just call me a tit?" He laughs. "Really? A _tit_?"

He stands and helps pull her to her feet. And, god, she's going to be feeling this tomorrow, she can already tell.

"Yep. Sure did. You're a clever one." She's mocking to hide the wince. But he's Tony, and there's nothing he doesn't notice, so he sees. And she's Tea, so she knows he's noticed. They've never been able to hide anything from each other, but he knows better than to open his fucking mouth and dig his own damn grave.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." He just smiles and keeps up the rapport. They're nothing if not capable actors. Lying about everything and nothing, until the truth is a foreign concept that neither really recognizes anymore. But his hand, in a move almost gentlemanly, is one the small of her back, and this doesn't _feel_ like a lie.

Maybe it should.


	2. And Things Aren't Simple Anymore

"I've been waiting all day to talk to you." The dealer growls, all fierce intimidation that bounces off both their well-honed masks. They'll never let nything real show through; they're much too skilled for that.

"Fuck off." Tony says with a smile. It's dark though, and there's something hard in his eyes.

"Now, now, play nice, kiddies."

"No. I don't think I will." Tony's stepping in front of Tea, his stance protective and possessive.

"All I wanna know is where to find that stupid blonde kid. Because you're friend owes me, and if you don't start talking, you're gonna owe me too. You and the little dyke."

"So, what, you're going to red us to death?" Tea quips.

The man's advancing, and Tony's tensing, preparing to use all those martial arts he's studied to keep fit.

"Hey, Tea," Her father interrupts, looking nothing less than ominous in his wife-beater. Head shaved, tattoos black against his skin, hatred in his eyes. "It's late. You should run up to bed."

"Okay, Dad." She's walking a little faster than normal, the only sign that she's bothered by this situation. Tony remains, eyeing Madison warily.

"Been a bit of a mix-up, obviously." He calls out, edging away from this made man and this made boy and this girl who apparently belongs to both of them.

"Obviously." Mr. Marvelli glowers until the yellow truck disappears from sight, then nods curtly at Tony, and goes inside.

Tony sighs, wonders what the hell, _exactly_ , he's doing, and turns towards home. This isn't who he is. This is not what he does. He's Tony Snyder. He doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything, not really. He'd save his own ass before anyone else's.

Yet, he'd stood there, prepared to get his ass thoroughly handed to him by a crazed drug dealer. And he doesn't know _why_. He really thinks he should. But he doesn't want to know what it means. Doesn't want things to change, to be different.

He's Tony Snyder, and he's an ass. A cold, manipulative ass. She's Tea Marvelli, and she's a bitch. A cold, manipulative bitch. And they're best friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's just that fucking simple.

He slides in the front door, and his dad smiles at him. "Have a good time, then?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Tony shrugs, disinterested in his father's approval. The man is useless and stupid, and Tony hopes he never becomes anything like him.

"Good."

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it, Dad."

"Tomorrow."

"Okay..."

This quietness is only half what the hell just happened with the crazy drug dealer outside. The other half is what the hell just happened with _Tony_. Tony, narcissistic, arrogant, manipulative, best friend Tony. Tony that she doesn't screw around with because they're best friends. And, oh yeah, she's _gay_.

She's so very, very gay. Except for the whole just slept with a guy thing. And Aubrey Hepburn is staring with her sultry eyes, judging her.

"Oh, shut up, you." She says and covers her face with a pillow. BUt it doesn't help because she still feels...well, she's not quite sure how she feels, but she knows she should be feeling anything at all. Because he's Tony, and she's Tea, and they don't do this. They just _don't_.

It's supposed to be fucking simple.


	3. Precious Lie

They don't let on that anything is different, that anything has changed. They play it cool and casual. Don't they always? And no one notices anything, no one says anything. Everyone is clueless. Just the way they're supposed to be.

Except Tony keeps staring at Tea from across the room. And Tea keeps staring back. And if anyone had been paying the slightest attention they would have seen the way the dynamic has shifted. The way everything has changed without changing anything at all.

"So, how was your blind date?" Michelle asks with horrible, honest curiosity as she slides across from Tea. This is a friend, hers and Tony's, and they've betrayed her terribly.

"It was fine." So nonchalant, as if her date hadn't been Michelle's boyfriend. As if she hadn't slept with him.

"He try and get into your pants?"

"Yep." She doesn't mention that she let him. Hell, that she _started_ it. Kissed him, pulled him down, told him not to stop.

"And you explained the whole liking girls thing?"

Tea kinda wishes this line of discussion would beover already, so she just nods. Tries to look bored. She doesn't want to talk about her date, about Tony.

"But, still, it's nice to get jumped like that sometimes, you know?" Her gaze shifts to Tony who's staring at Tea until he notices his girlfriend's attention. He redirects his eyes to the work in front of him. MIchelle looks back at Tea with sad eyes. "It's been a while since Tony wanted me like that.I have to work at it. It feels like...work."

Tea knows she should say something comforting. She should tell her that she has nothing to worry about. Maybe even say that Tony loves her, even though he obviously doesn't. But then Betty's there, lips against hers, and she doesn't have to say anything at all. The kiss is neither gentle nor demanding, some strange mix between the two. _I'm ready to stop hiding_ , it says without wrds, _are you_? And Tea doesn't have the answer. She used to have them all.

"See you 'round, yeah?" And she's grabbing her things while her boyfriend just stares.

Michelle yells something at the morons still gaping with disbelief. But Tea doesn't really hear because Tony's looking at her again, knowing yet confused and almost even _hurt_ , and it's not fair because everything used to be simple and now it's not. It's supposed to be.

The bell rings, and Tea leaves, doesn't wait for her friends. Doesn't wait for Tony, though she can feel his eyes burning into her back. Her father's there, waiting beside a car she's never seen before with the darkness she hates painted on his face. He knocks on the window and it rolls down to reveal Madison and two men she knows work for the Mob, the way she knows her father does.

"Is this the guy?" He asks, voice hard. "The one that called you that name?"

"Dad..."

"Is it?"

" _Dad_."

"I'll take care of it."

"No. Dad, _no_."

"You're a good person, sweetheart." He kisses her forehead, and she knows that he doesn't think _he_ is.

She walks away, hopes he does the right thing, but sort of doubts that he will. And she's sitting on her bed, wishing things would just go back to the way they used to be. Where her friends were just her friends, and a one night stand only lasted one night, and her father didn't do the things she knows he's doing.

But she doesn't think they'll ever be the same.

* * *

He should just let it go. He knows he should. It didn't fucking mean anything. He knows it didn't. That it _can't_. But the knowledge doesn't stop hm from picking up the phone and dialing her number.

"Hi." She answer, quiet and hesitant in a way that says _I shouldn't have even answered the phone_. He hates that tone. And he especially hates it coming from her.

"Hi." It shouldn't be this hard to talk to her. She's Tea. She's his _best_ friend.

"It isn't going to fly." _Why not, Tea. C'mon, we could be good_. Those are the words he wants, but they're not the ones that come out.

"I matched you. I matched you good." It's not untrue, and he just wants her to talk to him. To realize that she can't just run away from him because he's her best friend and he'll hunt her down to the ends of the goddamned earth. That's what he _does_. He pushes and pushes until things happen the way he wants them to. And he wants this.

"I've got to go."

"Don't," He tries to tell her, but by the time the word has worked its way out of his mouth, Tea has already hung up on him. "Damn it."

He runs his hands over his face, wondering when everything got so completely fucked. And ignores the part of him that reminds him it was just about the time he fucked _her_. He doesn't want to think about that. That, probably, maybe, it's all his fault. Well, not all his fault. It's not like he was alone last night. It's not like she didn't want him to. He even fucking asked. She could have said no.

But he's glad she didn't.

 _No, I'm not_ , he corrects himself. Because if she had just said no, had just reminded him that she's a goddamned _lesbian_ , none of this would be happening. They'd have had a laugh, had a few more drinks, and gone home with easy money. Could have kept it up, gotten paid every few weeks to hang out and drink. If they hadn't been so stupid. God, how had two people who pride themselves on their intellect done something so utterly and recklessly _moronic_?

Tony flops back onto his bed, exhausted with himself and with Tea. He doesn't know the answers. He _always_ knows the answers. He has a solution for _everything_. Except what to do when you hook up with your gay best friend behind your girlfriend's back while working for the mob. The one answer he doesn't have, so of course, it's the one he needs.

He stifles a groan as the incredibly vivid memory of her hands on his skin overtakes him for a second. He grits his teeth and gets out of bed. He's not going to do this. He's not going to sit at home and _pine_ for god's sake. He's Tony fucking Snyder; he doesn't pine after anyone, dammit.

"Stan?" He all but barks into his phone. "We're going out. Just the biys." He doesn't want to deal with Michelle right now, anyways.

"We are?" Stan's clueless voice questions.

"Yes, you pussy. We are." Tony is demanding and assertive because Stan will do whatever he tells him to. That's how this works. "The Cafe, twenty minutes."

"All right."

The next number.

"Abbud, stop doing whatever you're doing. The Cafe, twenty minutes. Boys' night out We'll find some nice one-night stands."

"I am so there."

"Of course you are."

And the next.

"Chris, put on your party pants, we're going to town."

"Party!"

"Damn straight."

And it's all a hollow imitation of the way things used to be. The way they should be. But Tony tells himself that he doesn't care.

He almost even believes it.

 _Almost_.


End file.
